


Stand Your Ground

by MillionLights



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A long time ago in a galaxy far far away, AU, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, First Order, Resistance, Star Wars - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-04-15 00:03:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14147532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillionLights/pseuds/MillionLights
Summary: He never believed that this day would come. Always in the control room, never on the front lines, there never should have even been an opportunity. Yet, here he is. He's is in a Resistance holding cell, facing the music at last. At least, he would be, if only the Force didn't have a plan for General Armitage "Starkiller" Hux.





	1. Week 1, Day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: I decided to take a small jaunt into a galaxy far, far away. So, after a lot of time getting sucked into Wookiepedia, I came up with this little thing. Personally, I've always thought that General Hux is a little under-valued by the First Order, so here's his time to shine! In addition, there is ONE minimal use of a swear. Nothing serious, but for those who may be sensitive, don't say I didn't warn you. Last but not least, contact me with any mistakes that you find.
> 
> ~~~~~~~OOOOOOO~~~~~~~
> 
> Disclaimer: Lucas Films and Disney are the ones that own this, at least until they respond to my e-mails...

Hux's hair that he had so carefully gelled back this morning now hung in strands around his face. His dress uniform that was modeled after ones from the height of the Empire, once pressed and pristine, was rumpled and dusty. His epaulets were askew, his greatcoat ripped, his rancor-hide gloves now sported a small tear. All of the troopers that he had brought with him were dead, and he was a prisoner of the Resistance. It had all happened so fast...

~~~~~~~OOOOOOO~~~~~~~

_One day ago..._

Hux was on a new model of the old Lambda-class military shuttles that had been reserved for the elite of the Empire. It had several modifications, including a hangar bay and a top-of-the-line hyperdrive straight from the assembly lines of Kuat. He was currently heading planetside to the scorching, Outer Rim world of Tatooine in order to create better shipping and trade routes into the Mid and Inner Rims. According to several reliable sources of intel, Lothal and a new planet called Kurinar had recently been discovered to have massive deposits of doonium, a very durable metal that was a key component in any good capital ship.

In addition, a planet named Lysatra was rumored to have an active trade network comparable to Taris' in the good old days. Hux strode out of his quarters and up to the bridge where he was due to make a call to Rotta the Hutt, who had inherited the position of ruler of Tatooine from his father. It took him a few minutes to reach the head of the ship, but in that time, the pit crew had already managed to hook up a connection.

Seemed like the Imperial Academies were still good for some things, then. The top general of the First Order made a small note to review some of the academies at a later date. Perhaps there would be more cadets of their kind. Hux took one last minute to straighten out his uniform and flipped the switch that would connect their viewport screen to Rotta's palace.

After a few seconds of waiting, it flickered to life, its blue glow only serving to make Hux seem even paler. On the screen was a protocol droid that was to guide them down to the planet.

"The great and powerful Rotta is expecting you, General Hux. He asks that you dock at Bay 9, then bring yourself to his throne room where he will hear what you have to say," the droid said, its metallic voice sending the beginnings of a migraine screwing directly into Hux's head. The General nodded curtly and ended the transmission.

He made a sharp about-face, staring down at the pit crew."You heard that piece of trash. Bring us in!" he snapped irritably, making the officers jump. "Notify me of when we get within sight of that slug's 'palace'. I will be in my quarters." He strode out of the bridge, the durasteel doors easily sliding shut behind him as he made the short trip to his rooms.

A passcode was entered by a hand clad in a rancor-leather glove and Hux practically threw himself onto the bed once he was sure that nobody could see him. Massaging his head as he pulled some documents from the top of his bedside table, he swore viciously, practically seeing his oncoming migraine speed up. Shoving the pain aside, he sat up and began to mutter as he went over the papers.

After about three of them, he began to see an emerging pattern. Ren. That bastard had apparently reduced three consoles to scraps these past four days alone and had traumatized more than one stormtrooper, causing them to be sent in for reconditioning and wrecking the First Order's latest budget plan as well. The crackling of his personal com-unit roughly snapped him out of his thoughts. It was a message from an officer on the bridge, one Lieutenant Kryell.

"General Hux, sir? The shuttle is within sight of Rotta's palace. The bridge awaits further instructions."

Hux felt a crooked smile twist itself onto his face. "Very good, Lieutenant Krye. Bring us in for a smooth landing at Bay 9, just as requested. Prepare a guard to accompany me to that repulsive snail's 'throne room'."

"Yes, General Hux. As you wish."

The comlink clicked off and Hux shoved the reports back into the drawer they had come from. Popping a quick look in the mirror to fix his collar (just a bit upturned), he opened his room's door and made the short trek back to the bridge. Walking along the shortened catwalk that led to the front of the ship, he turned to only other ranking officer that had been assigned to this miserable negotiation mission. "Colonel Artzin, you will be accompanying me to the actual negotiation. On the way in, make sure to take careful notes of where cameras and certain 'weapon depots' are hidden. Am I clear?"

The aforementioned man straightened to attention, uniform unwrinkled and boots pristine. "Yes, sir," he declared, saluting proudly. Hux nearly smiled, nearly. Dismissing him with a wave of his hand, he turned to the pilot.

"How long until we land?"

"Only a few minutes, sir. Bay 9 is just up ahead."

Hux looked out the viewport and sure enough, the entrance to the landing bay loomed large, practically swallowing the shuttle as it docked. He could just begin to make out the shadowy shapes of a protocol droid, a humanoid, and a few bounty hunters with spiky armor. It only took a short amount of time for the shuttle to land completely, small jets of pressurized air leaking out as the gangplank was lowered.

Hux and his escort stepped out, presenting quite a picture next to the filthy minions of Rotta. "We have arrived. Droid, if you would be so exceedingly kind as to guide us to Rotta's throne room?" he asked, the stormtroopers behind him remaining quiet, prompting the colonel to do the same. The bronze machine bowed to Hux, made a surprisingly quick turn, and began to walk. As the two groups walked, the colonel took in the surroundings carefully, noticing the cameras, escape routes, and well-concealed weapons. Finally, the party reached their destination.

The bronze protocol droid took its place beside Rotta, ready to translate whatever the Hutt had to say. Even though the galaxy was at war, the cantina was still packed and a (new) chained TWi'lek was still at the base of Rotta's platform. The Hutt gestured to the First Order group and began to speak while the droid translated.

"The Great and Powerful Rotta welcomes you to his palace and hopes that you will enjoy your stay. Now, what did you wish to bring up?"

Hux and Artzin fixed rather dead-looking smiles on their faces. "Rotta, it is a pleasure to finally be in your presence. I have come to you today to discuss the possibility of new trade routes into the Outer and Mid Rims."

Rotta's tongue slipped out from his mouth and licked his lips. "My lord believes that something could be worked out if the First Order is willing to give something valuable in return. He wonders if perhaps you would like to continue your negotiations in private, without others around to observe?" Hux gave a stiff nod and bowed to Rotta, waiting for instructions on what to do.

The chattery droid didn't fail to provide. "My lord would prefer if you would enter the antechamber down the hall and to the right. Third door. He wishes that you make yourself comfortable while he gathers the necessary documents."

Hux smirked and began a steady walk towards the aforementioned chamber, hoping to close these new deals quickly. Upon entering the room, his eyes were drawn to the furniture. The chairs appeared to be held together with string, spit, and prayers in a stark contrast to the First Order's sleek, metal tables and chairs.

His lip curling in disdain, he motioned for the stormtroopers to continue standing. It wouldn't do to sully that armor with slurry. The Colonel stood as well, just off to Hux's right. A few minutes of silence passed before Rotta entered the room with a small entourage in tow. Shuffling the papers in his fat hands, he began.

"General Hux. What routes did you wish to open? Tatooine is secluded, but still quite open to trade, especially for the kind that you have in mind. Or how about Dantooine or Hoth? Inhospitable, yes, but all the better for you and your superiors."

Hux struggled immensely to keep the snarl off of his face as Colonel Artzin took some stealthy notes. "Great Rotta, I really thinking more along the lines of Lothal, Kurinar, or Lysatra. Lothal and Lysatra both have able shipping economies and are near to where we would like to receive the shipments. In addition, according to our scans, Kurinar and Lothal have several untapped veins of doonium. Besides, Lysatra is practically the new Taris in terms of trade."

Rotta shook his head and opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a massive explosion. A crack split the ceiling above their heads and dust rained down. The bounty hunters in Rotta's party took off like blasts from a laser cannon, straight to the source of the trouble while Rotta began to quickly move out of the structurally unstable room. "Rotta! What is going on? Is this an attempt to sabotage the First Order?" Hux screamed.

However, the repulsive son of the famous crime king never had the time to reply as a chunk of the ceiling dome crashed onto his head, ending this branch of the Hutt crime family. Hux slammed his hand down on the table in frustration, further damaging the poor piece of wood, "All of you lot, to the main cantina. I want every one of those intruders dead or alive and ready for interrogation. This is an attack on First Order sovereignty. MOVE!" The stormtroopers saluted and raced out, carefully avoiding the cooling corpse of the Hutt.

As soon as the white-clad drones were out of the room, he swept up all of the papers that Rotta had left behind when he tried to flee. There was a chance that there was something useful to these documents, and if there was, Hux was going to be the one to bring them back to the Supreme Leader. Quickly snapping photos, Hux tucked the data chip into his pocket as he walked back into the main cantina. Colonel Artzin had just finished clearing a path through the debris in order for the two officers to escape.

To his surprise and immediate dislike, it was the Resistance that had come to crash the trade deal. All nine of them must have come directly from their ramshackle ships because their helmets were still on, concealing the majority of their faces from Hux's sight. The general only had five stormtroopers. He could already see how this was going to end. Several troopers already lay dead on the floor compared to the one Resistance member.

Blasts were flying everywhere and the general fervently wished that he had Ren's power to stop them; it would come in handy right then. Hux resolved to look over the training programs when he got back to base. They really needed a revamp. As the smoke and dust cleared, Hux could see that all of the men still standing were either Resistance troops or bounty hunters that were only loyal to Rotta. He sneered and firmly shoved the idea of pinch-hiring one of them to defend him. Members of the First Order did not accept help from scum, beneficial or not. Hux motioned to Colonel Artzin using a set of FO hand signals.

'On my count, begin shooting from assorted places around the room. Attract their fire while I attempt to raise the ship's frequency.' Artzin gave a curt nod, unholstered his blaster pistol from his belt, took a covered position behind an overturned table, and did a rush-job of recalling his Academy weapons lessons. It had been some time since he was actually in a battle, and not simply practicing in one of the officer's training rooms.

It wasn't long before the remaining Resistance members to realize that there was still one main First Order member unaccounted for; General Hux was the reason they were here, and he wasn't currently in the pile of dead stormtroopers. Hux was already on his comm unit and trying to raise the ship on all FO channels. It didn't work; he was apparently out of range.

Frustratedly, Hux shut off his comm unit and tucked it away in his belt. Tapping the side of the overturned table to get Artzin's attention, he started to sign different instructions. 'Change in plans. Can't raise the ship, must make a break for it. Nine left, take ones of right. You know what you must do.' After unholstering his officers' blaster pistol, he silently tapped his regulation black boot on the ground three times in quick succession. Artzin nodded and began to fire on the wary Resistance members who still hadn't organized themselves properly. Two of them went down from bolts through the brains while the other seven began to return fire.

As their efforts began to pay off, Hux felt a shred of hope. Perhaps it was possible to reach the ship in order to get off this dustball after all. Then, Artzin went down and that shred of hope died. The blast had gone straight through his stomach, most likely into one of his organs. Artzin was moaning with pain, it felt as if something were attempting to chew through his abdomen.

In response, Hux grit his teeth and increased his rate of fire in order to compensate. Unfortunately, the Resistance members had noticed that some of the shots' frequency was lacking. Two brav-no, stupid ones began to edge forward, attempting to get around the table and stop Hux from firing. Hux sneered at them and shot one through the chest. However, in doing so, he accidentally let his guard drop. The other five from the rag-tag vigilante army sprang forward and practically tackled him to the filthy ground, beginning the descent of his uniform. Six Resistance scum left. It was going to be quite tough to salvage this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. Or maybe this thing will just end up being banished to the far reaches of readers' imaginations. Maybe it won't ever be read, and I'll give up on it. But maybe, just maybe, I'll manage to end this particular piece and it won't die. On that sobering thought, so long for now... Lights out!


	2. Week 1, Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: I suppose one part of being a fanfiction author is that you never really finish any projects... anyways, maybe I'll finish this one? (I've always loved my galaxy from far, far away.) Besides, I've always thought that General Hux is a little under-valued by the First Order, so here's his time to shine! This chapter contains two swears (still nothing serious). In addition, as always, contact me with any mistakes that you find.
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> Thanks to Lokiscribe and two guests for leaving kudos!
> 
> Thanks to Lokiscribe and Bob...? for commenting!
> 
> ~~~~~~~OOOOOOO~~~~~~~
> 
> Disclaimer: Lucas Films and Disney are the ones that own this, at least until they respond to my emails...

Two muscular Resistance pilots had dragged Hux outside of the structurally unstable cantina-palace in order to actually take their new prisoner back alive. The general was having none of it. He wasn't going to go back to the Resistance while breathing. Unknown to those outside of the First Order, all officers above the rank of corporal had a false tooth implanted in their mouth. For all intents and purposes, it was a true tooth. It looked like one, chewed like one, even (to a certain extent) decayed like one. The false was in no way distinguishable from its fellows except for one fact. It opened. Inside of every fake tooth as a small capsule of cyanide so that officers would have the choice of doing the responsible thing when it came down to it. All First Order personnel were supposed to take the patriotic route by valuing the stability of their regime over their own lives. This meant that Hux was gently prodding the cap of the false tooth with his tongue, just in case he had to suddenly take the last swallow of his life.

Just as he began to seriously contemplate on this option, the cantina collapsed with a massive roar, leaving only a few parts still standing. The sandstone palace that had stood for decades upon decades now lay in an enormous heap not thirty feet behind them. Realizing the smoke and noise for the perfect distraction they were, Hux elbowed the Resistance member on his left in the throat, rendering the man temporarily winded. Due to the oncoming night and still-floating particles of dust, the general kneed the other one in the crotch. Now that he was free, he could see about escaping. Unfortunately, his ship was docked on the other side of the plateau, in Bay 9. Which may or may not still be standing. Hux gave a vicious curse. He would have to kill every single one of these pieces of scum before he could begin his search in earnest. He wished his stormtroopers were still around; he really hated doing the legwork. Flicking his left boot in  _just_  the right way, a small, serrated blade popped out and locked into place.

The man that he had elbowed in the throat was regaining his breath, necessitating Hux to take him out first. Moving quickly, the general quietly wrapped himself around the figure. The Resistance member managed to let out a small scream before his neck was brutally snapped. Hux grabbed the man's blaster pistol off his belt and hooked the scum's hunting knife onto his belt. The next to go was his other captor, the one who had been kneed in the crotch. A clean shot through the head was the thing that finished him off. Before the body hit the ground, the four remaining members of the space vigilante army were mobilizing, trying to surround their rogue prisoner and take him down without any more damage to either side. Meanwhile, the aforementioned prisoner was attempting to calculate the odds if he were to simply cut and run, rather than stick it out and most likely be captured again. Unfortunately, he took too long in making this crucial decision and thus gave enough time for a helmeted man with light, straight hair to lunge at him.

Yet, even when thinking, decades of military training had ensured that Hux was never without his guard up. A quick swipe of his left boot and the man was down on the ground, moaning with pain over his torn ankles. He was alive, and that was about all he was going to get. Three people left before the general could safely check to see if his ship was still intact. A different Resistance member, most likely seeking glory, took a shot at one of Hux's knees. To the shooter's astonishment, it simply glanced off  _something_  under the target's trousers. The target hadn't even bothered to move this entire time, because he was at a rather unfortunate stalemate. If he shot at any of his remaining three opponents, the other two would take that opportunity and shoot him. If he walked closer, not only would the blaster shots be more powerful, but he would suddenly be in the range of whatever short-strike weapons were concealed in their belts. Hux sighed and lowered the blaster pistol, before throwing it onto the ground entirely.

"I surrender," he said coldly. There were some battles that one just had to simply give up. Fights should be picked wisely, and this was not one of them. Three against one was not what he would call "good odds", and the general knew when it was time to throw the towel in. He had come here for trade deals, not death by a blaster. Besides, there would be information to gain from this, if he played his cards right. In response to his declaration, the three Resistance members had immediately been shocked to the core. The top general of the First Order, General Armitage "Starkiller" Hux, was surrendering? To the Resistance of all things? Eventually, the astoundment wore off and one of the men unhooked a set of binders from his belt. Walking over, he forced Hux's arms behind his back, clipped the cuffs onto the pale, skinny wrists, and took the knife from his belt. The two others each grabbed an arm and started walking back towards a bulky blue and white shuttle that Hux could see clearly, now that the dust had finally settled.

The doors slid open as the group approached and the prisoner was shoved in first, followed by the man with the torn ankles who was supported by his friend. The general felt compelled to make a small observation. "You do know that your friend there," he said, pointing at the wounded man with light hair. "Will most likely not ever walk again? I tore deeply into his tendons. It would be more effective to simply kill him off. There's no point to his life now; he can't serve your vigilante army anymore." The light-haired man glared at him.

"You know what, you arrogant bastard? I'm the one that's valued here, so shut your mouth. At least my friends would care if I died, your lackeys back at the First Order probably couldn't care less!" the man screamed.

Hux sneered and spat at him. "The knife I cut you with earlier had an extremely potent poison embedded into its metal. The only known cure currently lies with my 'lackeys', thousands of light years away at the First Order. Please do enjoy your last one or so days of life; they most certainly won't be pleasant."

The other man now looked scared as he limped away from the general. His two guards began to drag him towards the back of the ship, where he would be staying for the duration of the journey. It wasn't a huge ship, in fact, it was on the smaller end. However, to Hux, the journey to the brig felt like it went on forever. When the pilots opened the small cell, really a former bunk, he attempted to get a good look at the control panel but failed. He only managed to see the first number, which was a 9. 'Great, only 729 possibilities left.' he thought. He was roughly thrown out of his thoughts when he was literally thrown into the cell headfirst. As he sat up and the door closed, he noticed a massive streak of dirt that reached all the way down his uniform. There was no mirror, but he could tell that his hair no longer looked like it had this morning. Seeing as there was nothing left to do, he leaned against the back wall so he could see any approaching Resistance members and stretched his legs out in from of him.

He began to think of escape. Perhaps, if he found out the proper access code to his cell, he might be able to kill the remaining Resistance members and use the ship to fly back to First Order space. There was only one other plan that had a slight chance of working. He would have to wait for the ship to land in order to refuel, then deactivate the lock on his cell door and sneak out. From there, there was the slight possibility of stealing a ship. However, after some more careful consideration, Hux dismissed these ideas as foolish. There was no way to keep track of all 729 possible combinations, even with an enhanced memory like his. In addition, surely someone would recognize him if he exited the ship. His was a unique look. Hux instead decided to close his eyes. A little sleep would do him some good. Everything would be better when he woke up.

When Hux next woke up, it was to the rough slaps of the Resistance members from yesterday. "Get up, and don't ask questions," he demanded. He was the largest of the general's attackers from yesterday, and he could tell that it wouldn't be wise to defy this particular man. Hux got up and was immediately grabbed around the upper arms by the larger man. As the pair walked down to the front of the ship, it began to become clear as to where they were going. Looking out the ship's windows, it was evident that they had docked at an established port of some kind, perhaps to refuel or some other menial task. Maybe they were going to try to heal their wounded friend. That idea lasted as long as it took for Hux to register the greeting party. The two men from the ship that were still alive (the wounded man had apparently died) had joined the seven new Resistance members that flanked an older woman dressed in various shades of grey. Nine Resistance members, not counting the one that was still holding his arms, and General Organa. Even worse, two of Organa's guards were the captured pilot and the stormtrooper traitor.

Hux practically groaned in despair. Escape was not going to be easy. Then, General Organa walked straight up to Hux and did something that no one (except for his father) had ever dared to do. She slapped him clear across the face. As he reeled from shock, horror, and amazement at the woman's nerve, he missed her instructions to take him to the holding cells beneath the base. Once he snapped out of it, he began to struggle a little; just enough so that it would seem like he was putting up a fight. Of course, he wouldn't even dream of  _really_  doing that at this point, but it was important to keep up appearances, otherwise, he might face a major charge of treason from Supreme Leader Ren when he got back. When he and his two guards from the ship had just nearly entered the base, one of them slipped a piece of black cloth from his jacket pocket, roughly shoving it over his head.

_Flashback end_

~~~~~~~OOOOOOO~~~~~~~

After that, he woke up in a whitewashed cell, terrified that he hadn't noticed someone knocking him out on the way down. There was no way to tell how much time had passed, with no windows or chronos in the cell, anywhere from a day to a week could have passed without him knowing any better. Apparently, whatever they had used was one hell of a sedative because he now had a lovely migraine behind his left eye. Shoving that to the side, he got up and examined his cell, hoping for a weakness to exploit. After a few minutes of examination, he determined that there wasn't and instead sat down on the slab of stone chained to the wall that apparently served as his bed. There was nothing left to do except wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well, I've got even more of this story fleshed out, so I might actually finish something one day... pray for me!


End file.
